


Cut him out in little stars

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Is that a thing, M/M, star!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry starts to disappear and Louis doesn't want to let him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut him out in little stars

Louis notices Harry at boot camp, in the corner with his curls hidden in a soft, grey beanie, biting at his fingernails. He should be inconsequential because there are hundreds of people in this very room but it's Harry that catches his eye and Harry that Louis walks over to and takes a picture with, because there's something about him that embraces Louis' attention and keeps it.

The thing about Harry is that he's perpetually happy. Of course he gets tired and quiet and pissy, very rarely, but it's always solved with a hug and a cup of tea and he still radiates this _warmth_. He's all positive energy and if any of the boys are feeling down they’ll curl into Harry’s side and instantly feel better for it. When there’s particularly annoying fans and Louis just wants to snap because it’s been a long, long day (and heck, he’s tired, shoot a boy) Harry is there with his curls and his soft smile and his _thanks, babe_ and his _lovely to see you_. 

That’s why it’s so noticeable when Harry gets sad, suddenly. There’s no build-up or warning, just Harry appearing in the door way one morning looking pale and little, mouth pulled down at the corners and frowning. Niall’s in their apartment eating toast and they’re mid-conversation but they stop when they take in Harry’s appearance.

“You alright?” Niall asks around a mouthful of bread and Harry shrugs, flops down at the kitchen table and sighs. Louis stands next to him, hands on his hips, considering.

“Don’t you feel well?” he asks, putting the back of his hand to Harry’s forehead which Harry slaps away. 

“Just feel a bit down,” Harry mumbles, resting his chin in his palms and fixing his eyes on the wall. He pulls his lip through his teeth once and lets it go with a little pop, and another sigh. 

“No, no, you don’t get _down_ ,” Louis insists, poking at the corner of Harry’s mouth to try and get it to turn up because it shouldn’t be turned down like that, it just looks wrong on Harry’s face (and you can’t see his dimples when he’s frowning which is a big shame). That makes him smile a little so Louis takes the opportunity to pull him out of his chair and into a hug, Harry dropping his face into Louis’ neck.

“Don’t get any ideas, guys, I’m still here,” Niall mutters but it’s laced with humour because if there’s anybody that’s invested in this maybe, maybe not relationship it’s Niall.

There’s interviews and signings and filming and photo shoots and Harry’s bad mood is forgotten. They all notice as Harry gets paler and thinner though, always tired and carrying with him a lingering gloom that makes him look little and frail. Louis drags him to the doctor when they’ve got a day off but he says there’s nothing wrong with him, prescribes rest and sends them on their way. Louis huffs because there _is_ something wrong and Harry is not _right_. 

Harry doesn’t sleep well anymore. Louis finds him some nights in the lounge, curtains pulled open and staring up, up at the stars with fascination. He’s always followed his horoscopes intently and he’s a big believer in fate and destiny but this is a new level of strange, even for him.

“ _The fault, dear Harry, is not in our stars but in ourselves_ ,” Louis quotes, leaning against the door frame and smirking when he makes Harry jump. Harry scoffs and shoves past him, but he barely even pushes and he goes to Louis’ room and climbs into his bed instead of his own.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Louis whines after another day and night of Harry being sullen, poking him in the ribs. Harry’s cocooned himself in a blanket and Louis’ tried numerous ways of trying to cuddle him closer, none of which have worked.

“Homesick,” Harry murmurs and the next morning they’re in Louis’ Porsche with a bag of clothes each and heading to Holmes Chapel. “You’re silly,” is all Harry says before he closes his eyes and reclines the passenger seat so that he’s almost lying.

“And you’re mopey and your hugs are nowhere near as good when you’re like this,” Louis says petulantly, flicking Harry’s knee.

“Hmm. Knew you’d gain something from this,” Harry mutters, though he’s smiling with it. 

When they reach the house Harry’s mum puts a hand on each of Harry’s shoulders and looks at him sadly. He looks back and their eyes lock, two pairs of green eyes having a silent, intense conversation that makes Louis a bit nervous. Then Anne blinks and smiles widely at Louis, pulling him into a hug. She ushers them in and they have tea and they talk and Harry gets tired. It’s early but he goes to bed and Louis has to pretend that his stomach doesn’t sink a little bit. He doesn’t talk to Anne about it because he shouldn’t be this worried and he doesn’t want to worry her, too. He thinks she must know anyway, judging by her and Harry’s earlier silent conversation. He sits and talks to her for a while, mundane conversation until he tires too and climbs the stairs to Harry’s room.

He thinks Harry’s asleep which is why he jumps when he hears a little voice.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Harry whispers, tucked into blankets and duvets and looking like a little boy-child. Louis crawls into the mess of sheets that Harry has managed to wrap around himself until he can feel the warmth of his body, face pressed right up to close to Harry's.

"Course," Louis whispers back, using his hands to cushion his head as he lays on his side to look at Harry whose attention is diverted to the ceiling. He breathes out a long sigh and says it, quickly, to the ceiling.

"I'm a star." Louis wrinkles his nose in confusion, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Harry who finally meets his eyes. He smiles shyly as if gauging Louis' reaction, who tries to make his face as neutral as possible (which is difficult because what the hell is Harry on?).

"You're gonna have to elaborate, I'm not getting you," Louis murmurs, reaching to brush a stray curl from Harry's eye. Harry sighs again but it's not an irritated sound. It's more like weariness, resignation.

"My father is... _was_ a fallen star. He's back in the sky now. My mother is a human. I'm a bit of both. An anomaly, if you like." Louis' first thought is that he's lying or maybe that he's asleep and this is just a weird dream (for it wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamt of Harry). There's no humour in Harry's voice though, nothing that sounds like a lie and when Louis reaches down he can feel the warmth of Harry's neck beneath his fingertips and he thinks _yeah, okay, not lying, not dreaming_. He lets his head fall back to the pillow with a thump. 

"Okay. Question," Louis says, looking up and no longer at Harry though their shoulders touch where they lay side by side, "if you're a star then why aren't you in the sky?" He asks, quite seriously. Harry smiles.

"Answer. I do go to the sky, sometimes. Last time I went was when I was fifteen, just before X Factor," Harry murmurs like they're talking about what they had for dinner last night and not about the fact that Harry is a _star_ , one of those shiny things that looks really close but is actually billions of miles away. Louis sucks in a breath, lets the information wash over him so he can soak it up.

“Question. How many more star-people hybrids are there walking around then?” Harry laughs, poking Louis in the stomach before answering.

“Answer. None, as far as I know. I’m the only one,” Harry admits, shyly and only a little bit proud. Louis replies with a _knew you were weird_ and Harry shrugs and agrees.

"Question. Do you know when you're going back to the sky? Do you just pop off, tally ho, back to perform your duty as a star?" Louis asks, tone incredulous and heart definitely not sinking at the thought of that.

"Answer. It doesn't follow a logical pattern. I'm not tied to the sky or the earth so I flit between them instead. It's why I tried out for X Factor. I thought it would give me a purpose and tie me to the earth so I could stay here for good. Turns out I was wrong though," Harry whispers sadly, holding his skinny arms out in front of him. Louis' eyes pop open at the implication behind Harry's words and he closes a hand around one of those pale wrists.

"Is that was this is? You're going back? To the sky?" Louis asks quickly, voice nothing more than a whisper, throat suddenly constricted and heart heavy. Harry nods miserably, bringing his arms back into his body.

"Not forever, Lou," Harry reassures though even he can't make it sound confident.

"How long then?" Harry doesn't reply and Louis rolls onto his side so that his nose grazes Harry's cheek. He expels a sigh there and Harry giggles when the warm breath tickles his neck. The laughter fades to silence though, as Louis realises and Harry waits. Louis lets his hand wander over Harry's chest, pressing lightly in the dips of his collarbones and walking his fingers down Harry's ribs. Though he's thin and pale he's still beautiful, frighteningly so and it's obvious to Louis now that he's not all human. His skin is flawless and creamy-white, smooth like canvas and Louis can't help but admire it. 

"I've gotta say, you've taken this remarkably well," Harry muses, smiling as Louis' hands wander over his neck and chest, sliding down over his stomach.

"Mmm,” is all Louis can muster in assent. If Harry had grown two heads Louis probably still would have loved him. “Why don't you shine?" Louis says suddenly, removing his hands from Harry's stomach and looking up at him curiously. Harry shrugs, because this is a question that he asked his mum when she first told him (and of course it was, he was a bloody star and he didn't even get to shine?).

"Don't know. I'm an anomaly, remember?" 

" _My_ anomaly," Louis mutters, letting his eyes fall shut as he noses at Harry's neck, putting a hand around his waist to draw him closer. Harry puts an arm around his back and draws little circles on his shoulder blade. It's soft and intimate and Harry smells warm and musky and yeah, it's not what friends do, but it's what _they_ do. When Louis opens his eyes his vision is gold-tinted and everything is a sunny yellow. He sits up and looks down at Harry and _Harry is glowing_. It's a faint gold glow that frames Harry perfectly and when Harry looks up at him with huge green eyes they're flecked with gold too.

"You're shining," Louis states even though it's obvious. Harry laughs (and what a glorious sound) and holds his arms out, admires them from every angle. The sight is so adorable that Louis leans over and presses a kiss to Harry's jaw, lips lingering there before pulling away. _This is new_. He leans forward, slower this time but Harry doesn't move away, just holds his breath quietly as Louis explores his neck and jaw with lips and fingertips. Louis keeps his eyes open and watches the glow get brighter, such a bright yellow now that it fills the room, like Harry is shining only for him. 

It’s Harry that finally wraps his arms around Louis’ neck and kisses him properly, lip to lip. Louis closes his eyes against the intensity of Harry’s light, focusing on soft lips and warm hands. When he opens his eyes and pulls away he gasps because he didn’t think anything could look as lovely as Harry does now. His glow has reached fever-pitch but still it’s not too bright and Louis can’t look away. He’d make Harry shine all the time, if he could.

He’s sleepy then (and of course he is, because people sleep when the stars are out) and he yawns and falls to the pillow, though he’s asleep before he even hits it. When he wakes up Harry isn’t glowing anymore, he’s just lying back and staring up at the ceiling looking tinier and fainter than Louis’ ever seen him, as if all the shining has drained him somewhat. 

“You don’t look well,” Louis mumbles in his morning haze and Harry chuckles.

“Morning to you too.” 

They skirt around the issue as they eat and kiss Anne goodbye, driving back to London, but it’s obvious that Harry is deteriorating rapidly and they really should tell the boys. Louis goes for the direct approach as he does with everything in life, bursting through the door of Liam’s apartment where Liam, Niall and Zayn are gathered and announcing,

“Harry is a star.”

“Cute,” Zayn replies, tipping his head back so he can see them from his position on the sofa, “but what are you on about?” Liam comes out from the kitchen and gasps at Harry’s appearance, causing Niall and Zayn to look at Harry properly. Their faces fall and there’s silence.

Louis supposes he didn’t notice just how thin Harry had gotten because he’d been with him constantly. He can see it now though, Harry’s collarbones jutting out alarmingly and his skin almost translucent. Nobody speaks and they’re holding a communal breath, so it’s Harry that breaks the silence.

“I’m a star, guys. A star, like the ones you see at night. In the sky. A _star_ star,” Harry babbles and Louis grabs his hand and squeezes reassuringly. There’s an explosion of _why didn’t you tell us_ and _what does this mean?_ and _fucking hell_ until Harry is ushered onto the sofa and squashed between the other four boys. 

“I’m going back. To the sky. For a while. Hence the fading,” Harry gestures down at his body and that’s a pretty accurate description, fading. Harry’s speaking in broken sentences and Louis can see and feel the atmosphere crumbling with Harry. If One Direction is a body then Harry is the soul and if his light goes out then so does everybody’s. Nobody really says anything past that - nobody really knows what to say, still processing the information and the fact that Harry is leaving for god knows how long and what are they going to tell people?

Then Harry starts to disappear. Physically disappear, like one minute he had two hands and now he only has one and his arm is all fuzzy and disappearing slowly, slowly.

The boys squish him into a huge group hug though they can barely even feel him now and then they let Louis and Harry go to say goodbye properly. They don’t ask about the two of them but they know each other well enough to sense the change in dynamic and, really, it was a long time coming. Louis doesn’t waste any time in falling back onto the bed and pulling Harry down on top of him, pressing their lips together and grasping at any bit of Harry he can find. He pulls him impossibly close as if that will keep him here but he can already feel Harry slipping away.

“Don’t go, please, stay,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips even though he knows it’s futile, arms still wrapped around Harry’s waist. Harry smiles sadly, pressing one more tiny kiss to Louis’ lips and muttering a goodbye before he’s gone. Louis’ arms are empty, Louis’ heart is empty. He rolls onto his side and falls to sleep, wondering why it took this long to figure them out and cursing fate for taking Harry away on the brink of their realisation.

They tell a select few people at management who believe them, because they wouldn’t lie when it comes to Harry. A press statement is released - Harry is critically ill but he’s going to be alright. They don’t know much more than that, they say.

The boys watch the stars and wonder which one is Harry. Louis thinks he’s the brightest one, always in the centre of the sky, but he’s attuned to think that his Harry is the biggest and brightest. He sleeps with his curtains open at night.

A week passes and it’s the not knowing that’s the worst. Harry could be gone for months, years and the boys are visibly disorientated without him. It doesn’t fit right with only four of them and things don’t come so naturally without Harry. Luckily it’s put down to worry about Harry’s health and not the fact that he’s currently light years away from them, in the form of glowing matter in the sky. 

At the start of the second week of Harry’s absence, Louis is awoken in the middle of the night by somebody sitting on the end of his mattress. Louis can only make out a silhouette in the darkness, but he can see curly hair and he can’t contain his excited yelp as he throws himself at the figure, tiredness momentarily forgotten.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” Louis practically sings, kissing Harry’s neck and face and finally his lips. Harry smells like happiness and home, like the bedtime stories his mother used to tell him and he’s warm, comfortably so. Louis sighs happily and the relief that follows makes him feel as if he’s been holding the sigh in the whole time Harry’s been gone.

“I know. I've never been back this quick,” Harry marvels, rubbing gentle circles into Louis’ back idly. “Guess there’s something bringing me back, now.” They kiss languidly and Louis hums into it, can see how happy and bright Harry looks again and can feel it running in his own veins. Harry makes him want to believe in fate and magic because there’s no other explanation for what he feels with Harry wrapped around him.

“I think,” Harry begins when they’re laying side by side, hands entwined, “I think you’re it. You’re my tie, to earth,” and that makes sense. It explains why Louis is drawn to him and why he feels so empty when Harry’s not around. It explains why Harry came back so quickly, straight to Louis and why Louis could pick Harry out of a sky of stars when the others couldn’t. Harry yawns then and Louis pokes him in the ribs playfully.

“Am I boring you,” he jokes, wrapping one of Harry’s hands up in his and kissing the knuckles of it gently (for he can’t stop touching now that he knows that he can, now that he knows what Harry feels like beneath his fingertips).

“Excuse _you_ , but I’ve just travelled twenty five billion miles,” Harry says sleepily, turning into Louis and closing his eyes. Louis waits until his breathing evens out, closes his curtains, kisses Harry’s nose and sleeps.


End file.
